


Uruboros

by Fairy (laterie)



Series: GOETIA [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Ancient China, Angst, Based on Chinese folklore, Blood, Death, Fantasy World, General Jackson, M/M, Monk/capain/general Mark, Romance, Using of their Chinese names, War, eternal love, evil spirits, sword play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laterie/pseuds/Fairy
Summary: Let's go back to ancient China when Yien has abandoned his whole life to bring the love of his life back.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Series: GOETIA [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748146
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	Uruboros

**Author's Note:**

> You should read the first part to understand this story better, BUT it would be also alright if you would read this story first and then go back, because this time-line is placed BEFORE the first chapter. But if you'd ask me, I would say the first chapter then second. 
> 
> NOTICE: to not offend anyone, I'd like to state that I transformed the country into an alternate universe.  
> If you have a Spotify, you can listen to the playlist I had on repeat and almost gone insane: [GOETIA](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3Dz4hvST2nN9zs3FP1jrDx?si=kGrW0AqwShu6jDchyWWToA)

The night was cold and aching the very core of Earth. The stingy wind was rustling with the late autumn leaves, tearing them from the twigs and taking them on their last adventure before winter. Yien stepped on the forest path, with the crescent Moon being the only company for him.

As he was walking in the darkness, a sudden thought flashed through his head. Was he _forced_ to leave Jia'er for his servants and the doctor to mend his wounds? Yien felt something eerie, almost evil following him around like a shadow. In the middle of the road, he suddenly stopped, not understanding why in the first place, he was heading back to his mother's home when he wanted to stay in the general's house.

Something was wrong.

Was he being _allured_?

His mind was strangely blank when he decided to return to the village. As if someone snapped their fingers in front of his face to bring him back from the trance. Suddenly it was hard for him to understand _why,_ but his body kept walking to his general as if someone were pulling him.

Yien was trained as a monk in the Temple in the west woods near the river, where he first spared with Jia'er. His morals were more potent than the poisonous tongues of fake men who tried to surround the general. Yien was always straightforward and always gave his all to the fight, but he had never avoided politics because that was why he spilled blood in the first place. Being a monk meant using his brain before he would touch his weapon. 

_Shéng_ , that's how they called him in the Temple, and that's how the loyal hundred called him. But there was nothing holy about Yien anymore. Even though he tried not to kill his enemy, he often rested his head on the pillow in the middle of the night and thought about leaving these bodies without arms or scared was even worse than calling death upon them. 

During his darkest periods, Jia'er often put Yien's head on his lap and sung him old lyrics of his grandparents that lulled Yien back to sleep. Nobody asked why the captain spends so much time with the general anymore. The village people loved that Jia'er provided them with safety and enough fortune. The king promised the promote the village after he would win, and that day happened today. 

Yien could see the lights of the house already. He smiled for himself when he felt a painful ache near his heart. He was almost stabbed, but the armor was able to protect him from the enemy's sword. Suddenly, he felt foolish and had to laugh at his behavior. He should get his body treated before showing himself again. But then _,_ why did he walk away without treatment or without washing his face firstly? 

He reached the village border when a rusty fox appeared in front of him. Yien remained in his place, watching the small predator fearlessly sitting and staring. It shouldn't bother him, not that much, but today, as the Moon was hanging low and fading away, he felt the power of dark magic closing its claws around the village. 

Fox was never a good omen. They stared at each other for what looked like a whole eternity. Yien felt tricked, he had tried to fight the golden-shining eyes' pressure, but it was still too late when he heard the bell echoing in the air. His face had turned into a painful grimace as he forced himself out of the spell. When he looked at the fox, it gave him a vicious grin, baring its teeth mockingly. Yien reached for his short sword, but the fox quickly ran away into the woods. 

He looked at the village. They lit up fires on the towers, and the gate was getting closed. Yien immediately put back his sword safely and sprinted to the wooden gateway. His heart hammered in his chest like a war drum, pushing him faster and faster until his legs hurt until he ran into the gate's wood. A village guard quickly pulled his sword against him. 

"Let me in!" Yien knocked away his sword. 

" _Shéng,_ it's you!" the man's eyes widened at the sight of the general's right-hand man. 

"What happened here?" 

The gate finally closed firmly behind them when the soldier let him in. People were running wildly; some of them were dragged from their homes by soldiers. Yien watched in disbelief what was happening around him. He caught a woman who tried to run away from a man and pulled her behind himself, punching the man so hard that he fell straight on the ground into the dust. 

"It's general!" the guard called, frantically pulling Yien with himself, "he was stabbed!" 

**

_"How do I look like?" Jia'er asked when his servants helped him sat down on his bed, "battle scars are attractive, aren't they?" he asked, smirking at Yien, who was dipping clean cloths into cold water._

_"Being alive is more attractive, I would say," Yien squeezed the fabric until it stopped dripping and came to bend to Jia'er to clean his face from the blood and dirt._

_"You can go," the general dismissed his servants._

_There was a slight frown between Yien's eyebrows as he was concentrated to wash away Jia'er face without bothering the bruised skin on his cheek. His black hair was messed and at places falling to his eyes. It was tempting for the general to reach and brush it away to see his lover's golden eyes better, but he decided to let his arms rest._

_"You fought well," Jia'er cut the silence between them, "even saved my life."_

_"You saved mine too."_

_Yien gently pressed the cloth against Jia'er split lip. His body hurt; he wouldn't lie. He needed to get his injures treated and get some food and sleep. But in the first place, he wanted to get rid of his armor that was painfully squeezing his ribcage._

_"Why don't you put that down and rest with me until the doctor would appear?" Jia'er gently grabbed his hand and put it down, "we're not bleeding nor dying, my love."_

_Yien felt his heart clenching at that word. He was so scared of losing Jia'er that he was getting paranoid with every swift of his sword or kick on the battlefield. It left him unconcentrated on protecting everyone, not only his general. Yien caught himself, acting selfishly, being plastered on his lover's side for his own reasons and not for the greater good._

_"I only wish this to end," Yien said as he sat down next to Jia'er, "I can't watch them trying to kill you anymore. It takes away my sanity."_

_He put his hands down into his lap, bothering the stained cloth with his fingers. No matter how tough Yien was, he always softened when it came to Jia'er. His soul got bared in front of the general, and his heart ripped away by just one look of these dark brown eyes. Jia'er reminded him of late spring when the woods' scent turned earthy and rainy and when the trees turned into rainbows. It always brought peace to Yien's mind. If Jia'er was spring, then he was summer, the late summer sun's beans that could reach through the coldness of the next season and colored the skies warmly for the last time._

_Maybe it was destiny, or their connection was that strong that they shared their thoughts because when Yien finished his philosophy, Jia'er turned his body to him and cupped his face lovingly, caressing Yien's cheekbones with his thumbs._

_"You're so warm and so calm," Jia'er nuzzled his nose into his neck, "I feel safe with you."_

_Yien closed his eyes, letting his guards down completely, when Jia'er started kissing his neck, not minding the sting in his bottom lip. After the massacre, liters of spilled blood and agony, all they desired was a gentle human touch, love, and whisper._

_"You're more than I deserve," Jia'er moved his hands south, probing the ridged armor that was still attached to Yien until his hands rested on his sides. "You are wounded; you should go and let the doctor treat you immediately."_

_"Li Wei is your doctor," Yien protested, "you deserve to be treated first. What would your men say if you would let the doctor treat your subordinated first?" he smiled._

_"Nothing," he said with honesty in his voice as he leaned their foreheads together, "they respect you the same as they respect me. My men are ready to follow you anywhere, remember that Yien." He brushed their noses together._

_"What's mine is yours," he added before kissing Yien on his lips, "I'm bound to you."_

_It wouldn't hurt that much to lower his armor and let Jia'er take care of him. His hands were better than any balm made by a human. Kisses could heal the pain in his soul. In conclusion, Jia'er was all that Yien needed in his life. To think about it, he would have to leave the room and house so that the doctor could take care of his general, wasn't settling right with him._

_"General," a servant interrupted them from behind the closed door, "Doctor Li Wei is here to treat your wounds."_

_"Alright," Jia'er answered but didn't move from his position, "just a moment."_

_"I'll stay with you," with these words, Yien pulled away, "I can spend the night."_

_"No," Jia'er shook his head with a smile, "after the doctor treats your wounds, you should show yourself to your mother. She's worried."_

_"Or I can go right now and come back to—"_

_Jia'er laughed, "you silly, I'm not letting you go wander around injured."_

_"It's not that far away," Yien complained, "besides one night won't make any difference."_

_Jia'er looked into his eyes with amusement, "alright, but first, let the…"_

_"No," he said stubbornly, "you are the priority, Wang Jia'er!"_

_The general's expression turned serious, "I can give you an order."_

_They exchanged looks for a while until Yien sighed and shook his head, "you know very well that I would still refuse. And now," he stood up, "let them treat you well. Get some rest, and in the morning, we'll see each other."_

_"Disobedient," Jia'er chuckled, "can kill for me, but won't let me take care of him."_

_"Are you talking about me as if I weren't here?" Yien asked with a smile._

_Jia'er returned the smile and stretched out his arm to gesture Yien to come closer to him. They shared one last embrace and kisses before Yien gently pulled away and kissed him on the crown of his head, whispering loving words._

_"I love you."_

**

He should've known better than listen to the spirits whispering in the wind and alluring him away from Jia'er. Only a foolish child could let itself get caught in such a trap. When Yien closed the door of his lover's room, a servant rushed to him and asked if he should at least wash him, but something was telling Yien that he should go to see his mother and after _that_ , he should quickly go back so he wouldn't have to leave Jia'er again.

_'One night won't make any difference.'_

But the fox thought differently. It first appeared between the houses when the soldiers returned, then when Yien left the village to see his parents' house. And for the last time when he decided to return in the middle of the way. 

Yien's soul was weakened by the blood spill and dreadfulness of the battle, so his guards dropped, and he let dark energy roaming around his mind like a flock of crows. _Someone_ had to provide the biggest sacrifice to the evil spirit of the fox. 

Now Yien could see his mistakes clearly.

 _Shéng_ failed to protect his general. 

The _holy_ spirit failed. 

"Who did it?!" Yien was holding the lifeless body of his lover. Tears were painting his face into anguish while the blood was soaking into the sleeves of his undershirt. 

No man dared to say a word though Yien's voice was breaking the air. His pain was turning the atmosphere highly anxious and dark. The guardians kept staring on the floor, tensed, and mourning the loss of their general. Outside, the village was turning into chaos. The disbalance caused everyone to turn into lunatics chasing their comrades and family. 

But for Yien, nothing has mattered anymore. 

"Why are you not answering me!?" Yien yowled, gripping Jia'er's body tighter to his chest. 

The room echoed each of his sob and pleadings, but none of the guardians dared to speak. They looked like sculptures made of rock, massive and soulless. No matter how hard they tried to respond, how hard they wanted to sink on their knees and beg for forgiveness, they remained paralyzed by the pain radiating out of their captain. 

"Why did you…" Yien buried his face into the bloodstain on Jia'er's white blouse and whimpered again, breaking the hearts of the loyal soldiers circling the couple at a respectful distance. 

"My love…" his throat ached from the cries and venom spilling around. Thousands of stabs wouldn't hurt that much because this pain was eternal. It couldn't kill a man instantly like a sword but could destroy their souls and hearts. Yien was doomed to stay attached to his dead soulmate forever. The red string of destiny was stretched at its limit, pulling Yien away from Jia'er's soul. 

"WangXing Fu…" Lu Han's words managed to penetrate the gloomy atmosphere. 

When the name was spoken aloud, and the words sailed the destiny of the great general and his right-hand man, the string finally broke, leaving Yien powerless on top of his dead lover. Not the enemy, but the general's own family had betrayed him. 

Nothing has left for Yien. 

No amount of tormenting and crying could bring Jia'er back to his life. 

Yien brushed away the fringe from his lover's closed eyes, gently touching his cooling skin, "leave us alone!" 

The four men deeply bowed before they removed themselves from the bedroom. They knew better what their duty was after their general was murdered; a whole village was brought into chaos by the dark magic of the wicked fox spirit. 

Yien was gently stroking his lover's face, trying to engrave each of the detail of his features into his face. For the last time in this life, he could hold his body and whisper the comforting words as if Jia'er could hear him. The stabbed wound in his heart wasn't bleeding anymore, and Yien found himself sitting in a pool of blood where his lover, dressed in white, looked pure and as cold as a snowflake.

"I'm sorry," he kissed the cold lips for the last time, "but I swear to my soul that I will find you again, Wang Jia'er." 

The tranquility that surrounded Yien felt like hell. People say that hope dies last, but _no,_ he couldn't hope that the blood would run back into his lover's veins and nurse him back to life. Yien didn't possess such power to bring the dead back to life. 

**

With first fresh snow, Yien left the Temple for the north, heading into Zhuge village. The king ordered his last loyal men to concentrate in the town to decide their kingdom's destiny. With the general's death, only a few loyal commanders remained. Xing Fu was able to overtake his homeland fast, which meant that if Yien didn't manage to escape fast enough, he would probably be chased and killed by the man's soldiers. It happened quicker than Yien could react. His heart was still mourning while he spent his days and night under the old oak tree where he buried his lover. 

When his horse was taking a break, a familiar voice reached his ears in the middle of the way. Lu Han showed himself from the woods decorated with snow and greeted his captain with a respectful bow. 

"I'm going with you." 

"You know I'm aiming for death, Lu Han." 

The guardian stepped closer, leading his horse through the snow, "all I know is that I won't rest well until I see that bastard bleeding on your shoes." 

Yien turned his head back to his horse, petting his head, "if the king would allow me…"

"You don't care about _that._ " Lu Han said firmly, "I can see it in your face, but I believe, my captain, that no amount of pain can overshadow your soul. You are an honorable man." 

"Don't talk like that." He frowned. 

"I don't want to see my captain falling into despair." 

Yien turned his body swiftly, anger overpowering him when he drew his sword against the guardian, "And where were you, when our general was bleeding to death?!"

Lu Han averted his eyes, stepping back, "the _spirit_ of the fox…"

"You are trained for that!"

"So is you!" Lu Han's face cracked, the façade falling apart as his eyes expressed nothing but a pure sorrow. 

"I've been wounded! Almost stabbed in my heart!" Yien shouted, "but you were his personal guardian!" 

He spat the venom fiercely, blaming everyone around him. Yien knew that he was as guilty as the guardians. His heart stored so many negative emotions that he couldn't stop himself from tearing everyone around. Even his loyal men, the ones whom Jia'er trusted with his life, were now blaming him. The world looked like a big black ink stain, and Yien had to find the single dot that caused it. 

All he wanted was to fulfill his promise before he dies. 

"I'm going to kill Xing Fu no matter what it takes!" Yien swiftly turned his sword in his hand and put it back into its sheath. 

"Would you ruin other people's lives to get your revenge?" Lu Han asked, solicitously, "I believe the reason you became general's right-hand man, and our captain was because of your pure heart, _shéng._ "

Yien gritted his teeth, anger overpowering him again, "don't ever call me like that again!" 

"You trained from a child to become someone better, someone, who could change people's lives for the better. Don't turn your back to them. Your sorrow will fade away one day." 

Lu Han's words pierced him through and through. Yien tried to fight the darkness that was coloring his soul, but every time he closed his eyes, Jia'er's lifeless body appeared in the blackness of his consciousness. No details to which he could run to desperately trying to avoid the dead gaze of his lover. At first, Jia'er's eyes were always closed, but the more restless Yien grew, the more disturbing his dreams have become. 

"I can't…" Yien turned back to his horse and quickly swung on his horse, "there's nothing left for me, Lu Han." With that, he spurred his horse into galop. He didn't care if Lu Han would decide to follow him or not, because after all, Yien wasn't the only one who loved their general, and even though his love crossed the line of admiration and respect of a soldier, he knew it was still there.

**

At first, the king welcomed Tuan Yien, the holy, with a remorseful expression, but his face quickly changed when Yien accepted the shoddy sympathy. Not that Yien was surprised by the lack of the king's interest in some dead general, no matter how crucial Jia'er's position was. Soldiers were always put in the front line; their bodies were wasted, their future buried before they even could think about it. But Jia'er was superior in ways that no other high-ranked soldier could accomplish. He became a general in thirty-three after winning a set of small, however critical battles. 

Seeing the king disrespecting Wang Jia'er this way almost made Yien turn on his heel, but he knew better after years of serving in the army. And if the king were about to flip sides and position Yien into the most uncomfortable stance, Yien wouldn't hesitate to attack. He knew he was way better than the lazy guards sniffing around the king. 

"We both want Xing Fu's death." As he sat down on the chair, the king said, "he dared to touch what was once mine."

Yien frowned, which, of course, the observant king couldn't miss, "is there something wrong?"

"No, your majesty." 

"Good," he poured wine into the empty cups and offered Yien a seat at the opposite side of the table, "then I believe we can work this out together."

"How?" 

"I want you to become the new general in the province of Ushang." 

Just like that, the king dropped the stone and rippled the calm water of Yien's mind. Their goals met in the middle, but the finish was gritty. To _hell_ with the rest of it, Yien didn't expect to come alive. Xing Fu was a cold-blooded and soulless manipulator, who, after Jia'er had promised him a portion of the province, decided that stabbing his cousin would be a preferable way to gain the land and even more. 

"If we manage to get our land back and kill that son of a bitch, then the land is yours." The king surely did call a spade a spade. His foul mouth didn't bother Yien at all. At least he didn't have to face the lies dressed as truth.

"If I die," Yien said, looking at the wine, "I want that land to become a part of the directed protectorate. I want the king to rule the land, no general, or lord."

"Why is that?" the king leaned in his chair.

"Because Wang Jia'er fought your battles so that his homeland could become a part of the kingdom. He always protected it, but no one is immortal, am I right? With Xing Fu sitting in his house, I believe the land is no more the land of peace and prosperity." 

Their eyes met over the heavily decorated table. There was nothing much to discuss anymore. Yien promised not to die in vain, at least, while the king sent for his scriber to write down the convention. 

After being led to his room by the servants, Yien received back his weapons and a new set of clothes with a red tassel and general armor. How many times did he help Jia'er to dress and undress it? How often did Jia'er allow him to repair the armor after one battle so they could head into another? No amount of taking it off and on had ever prepared Yien to see the wounds and bruises that he always embraced with love. 

Sitting on the bed, Yien gripped the red tassel into his hand, allowing himself to use the quiet and dark corner to release the pent-up sadness. His tears dropped on the wooden floor with the heaviness of thousands of souls. 

**

_"Yien, what are you doing?" Jia'er's laugh resonated around, making Yien jerk in his position under the waterfall._

_"Cleaning my chakras," he called through the bubbling noise of the water._

_The waterfall was streaming from under the set of rocks where the Temple was built and flew into the river that crossed the village. The first time they met there, Jia'er was wearing only plain clothes and fishing with his dog when Yien appeared still dressed as a monk. Shéng with no hair, that was how Jia'er called him when he saw him standing on the Temple's stairs. 'Become one of my warriors, will you? I need an adviser.' Back then, Jia'er was only a captain, a small fish in the sea of sharks._

_"Does it hurt?" Jia'er asked as he removed his shoes and stepped into the cold water, "oh my-my…" he looked at Yien, shocked._

_"What's wrong? Is it too cold for you, captain?" he chuckled._

_"Excuse me? I'm a spring child." He laughed._

_The more the young captain got under his skin, the more he opened, the more Yien felt like he's becoming a friend with a baby boy than becoming a subordinate to a military man. But Yien wasn't studying his whole childhood to judge people, but understand their actions, and Jia'er, in his eyes, simply grew up loving life as it was. Every change only polished the world._

_"Summer." Yien glanced at him as he was getting closer to the waterfall. The cold water beat his shoulders and head, leaving him numb and stiff but also very relaxed inside. When Jia'er carefully set his fingers under the water, Yien chuckled as the stream beat his hand down and cause Jia'er to pull his limb away._

_"How do you do it?" he asked, petrified by the force of the water._

_"I'm trained for that." Yien sighed as he very slowly and carefully pulled himself from under the water. First, his hands, then he stepped one step forward, waited for a moment, and took another step for his body to adjust slowly to the difference of temperature and blood pressure._

_"Does it help?" Jia'er asked as he was examining Yien's body, "you're cold as dead." He put both palms on Yien's pectorals, his skin immediately absorbing the warmth of the captain's body._

_Yien couldn't help but keep their stare locked. If he didn't know better, he would say that Jia'er is just an ordinary man working in his fields or selling goods. But here they were, both deciding not to meet the expectations of people. In his eyes, Jia'er was as beautiful as his words could be. He had a poetic tongue for a warrior and often called Yien to read him his verses._

_"Do you know the story of a nine-tiled fox?" Yien asked, utterly bewildered by the beauty of his captain, "how when the fox reaches a specific age can turn into an alluring woman and seduce men into submission?"_

_Jia'er grinned at the words, "what are you saying, shéng, that I'm a woman in disguise and sly as a fox?"_

_He followed the deep brown eyes everywhere, even when Jia'er decided to turn his head away, Yien followed with his whole body, mesmerized by the sparkles. It seemed like Jia'er couldn't avoid this monk, no matter how hard he tried._

_"If anything,_ you _are the sly fox here," Jia'er laughed._

_"Please," Yien said, frowning, "be careful. Every legend is built on the truth."_

_Jia'er stepped closer, his eyes turning gentle again, "why should I when I have you?"_

I have you. 

**

Yien jerked awake by a sudden… _earthquake?_ No, that was only Lu Han shaking his body as he fell asleep under a tree. He sighed tiredly since the dream had drained off his energy. Just seeing Jia'er's smile made his spirit lift, but once understanding that everything was just an illusion, his mood has dropped low, sucking away his strength. 

"It's you," he rubbed his eyes tiredly, "what are you doing here?"

"I asked your lieutenant if I can join. After that, I was led to your captain, and the captain should've told you, but you fell asleep, so I decided to take the things into my own hands, _shéng._ " How this person was named after a _deer_ and even looked like one, but when he opened his mouth, nothing but a fox's tongue appeared. 

The dream left a sour taste in his mouth. 

"I want you to have this," Lu Han kneeled before him as he untied the leather sheath from his leg. "I wanted to keep it as a keepsake, but…" with a smile, Lu Han pulled out an amber dagger.

Yien's eyes widened in surprise, "where did you get it?" 

"From the house," he said, his eyes getting overwhelmed by his emotions, "when we were running away, I've found it lying on the floor, and I thought that…" he clenched his jaw. 

"Lu Han…" 

"I want you to have it!" he persisted, "it belongs to you." 

Lu Han presented the dagger on his palms like a precious gift. It sure was, because, on the blade was engraved the symbol of Wang's family. A thin purple string was skillfully tied under the guard, decorating the handle. It was a royal dagger, a gift the king gave Jia'er when he joined his army. 

"Yien," the guardian said firmly, "I should've kept it as a secret, but I believe the general would forgive me my temerity..."

Yien was getting nervous with each second that Lu Han wasted on explaining why Yien's dear deceased lover shouldn't get angry with him, and in any scenario, he shouldn't come back from the underworld to haunt poor Lu Han because he broke his promise. When Yien finally snapped at him and whacked his head with his open palm, the guardian apologized and bowed. 

"Talk, dammit!" 

"Wang Jia'er planned to join your lives forever." 

Yien felt a wave of shock transcending his body, leaving him gasping like a fish. He gripped Lu Han's wrists painfully, gritting his teeth as he tried to transfer the pain and root himself deep into the soil like lightning. In the past days, when he wandered around mindlessly, trying to come up with a plan, he often thought how his life with Jia'er would've been now. If they would finally live together in the same house and sharing their bed until their last days… but not even in his wildest dreams, would he thought about something as bold as…

"He wanted to marry me?" 

**

The snow crunched under Yien's boots as he was maneuvering between the enemy. His armor was heavy and cold, but it only forced him to move faster and hit harder to keep himself warm. This time he aimed for their arteries and hearts. Sparing was a word that Yien removed from his vocabulary. Jia'er used to call him _a bird, a phoenix,_ because Yien looked like he was flying while doing his martial arts. Like any other monk, Yien was trained to fight with his body, not with weapons. After joining Jia'er as his adviser, he unofficially gave up a monk's life and title _shéng,_ though the village people still used to call him like that because of his kindness. 

But right now, Yien didn't know anything about _kindness. All_ he could see was Jia'er's body lying on his lap; all he could feel was the blood on his hands getting colder. 

It was like an endless chain of betrayals. Someone once set their foot in the dirt and corrupted kingdoms and men with pure hearts without moving a finger. Their home didn't look like the village Yien remembered from the day when he left. The snow has covered the land, hiding the torment of people from his sight, but not from his heart. 

The first from many battles has ended victoriously but left only even bitter taste in Yien's mouth. He was fooling around with Xing Fu's men instead of targeting that bastard. Cut the dragon's head, and the fire will stop. 

His men begged him to settle down and wait for the spring to come before he would go, but Yien chewed that idea and spat it disgustingly out of his mouth. Xiang Fu ran away from the house and was now heading to the north. He could hide wherever, and Yien would spend the rest of his life to find him. It was now a fight between two men. 

"I don't like that expression of yours," Lu Han said when Yien was staring at the mountains on the horizon, "we have the village, the home is finally ours now, that's what matters." 

Yien turned his head at him, anger filling his eyes, but he didn't say a word. Instead of that, he took his horse by the bridle and led him further into the village. People were bowing to him and celebrating his name. 

As soon as Yien crossed the threshold of the house, his sadness subdued him. He stood still in front of the bedroom, trying to amass his thoughts, bring himself to act, but he couldn't. He was sure there was a stain on the floor, a soul spilled on the wood forever, reminding people that a real saint was killed there. Yien dropped to his knees. He was weak on his body and even weaker on his soul. He gave a promise, Jia'er had trusted him with his whole being, and he failed to protect the only person that mattered. 

"I'm so sorry," his body trembled as he whimpered, "I miss you so much." 

Never in his life, Yien bowed to a man as deep as he was bowing right now to Jia'er's memory. His stained forehead touched the wooden floor, nails digging into it as he was trying to embrace his grief, press, and push it deeper into the depth of his darkening soul. Instead of a dragon, a wolf clawed at Yien's heart, ripping rivers of pure blood out of him.

A lone wolf would either die or become fierce enough to survive surrounded by only enemies. 

"General Duan Yien!" an urging voice echoed against the polished wooden walls. 

Yien pulled himself into a seat, resting his hands on his lap and watching the ornament on the doors of his past lover's bedroom. How much was his home stained by the hand of the repulsive monster who Xing Fu definitely was? Yien felt like burning down the house and let the wind spread the ashes across the mountains. 

"General!" an older soldier crawled on his knees closer to the young man. 

"What is it?" he asked, slightly angry for the disturbance. 

"The Temple! Your Temple was burned down! They burned it down!" 

_Shéng,_ Mark thought as his eyebrows furrowed. The skin on his palms was peeling off from holding his sword too often and too firmly. He was bleeding because of the rough tying of his handle. 

"Villagers say it was Xing Fu!" the soldier shook his head, his eyes fixed on the ground. 

"Of course, it was him," Yien said, his voice emotionless. 

"What are we going to do?" 

"We?" he looked at the man and then back at the floral ornament on the doors, " _we_ are going to do nothing." 

Yien could see himself as a red ribbon, unrolling down to an endless hill, forever falling, scuffing, and crying. _He_ has chosen the path of perdition, following _no one,_ just crazily rolling down into the darkness. 

"This land is yours now," the man bowed, "as the king promised, right?"

Perhaps it was what he deserved for walking down the autumn forest path, being deaf to all of the signs that no _shéng_ could've ever ignored. No wound was an excuse enough for being foolish. Jia'er's death was no one's fault but his. As he kept his fist tightly closed, he felt the urge to wrap his hands around his sword again and _kill._ Kill until there would be no one on in the kingdom. Yien felt something ominous possessing the rounds of his soul, sharping them into corners and morphing him into someone else. 

"Tell everyone that Duan Yien has died on the battlefield." 

That answer seemed to puzzle the soldier, "what are you saying?"

"Do as I tell you! It's an order!" 

" _Shéng…_ " 

"He's dead." 

**

_"Why would you choose such a path, Yien!" His mother cried in despair as he got up on his horse after announcing that he would probably never come back again._

_"You are my only son!"_

_Yien looked at the misty mountains with coldness in his eyes. If it weren't for Jia'er, who always adored his mother, Yien would've never come back and let the soldiers tell his mother that he died on the battlefield. But he couldn't, not when his mother understood his pain better than anyone._

_"If you keep walking this path, you'll never meet Jia'er again!" she shouted when his heel met his horse's flank. "it's not love, but the hatred that you feel!"_

_He gripped the rein, his jaws clenching painfully as his horse was speeding up through the freshly fallen snow. Whoever said that it was love that was pushing him forward and keeping him alive? Love was dead, for Yien. No autumn leaves, no spring plum flowers… the scent of love meant Jia'er was no more present in the world._

_Dead seemed like redemption, and if he were about to die, then at least let it be on the battlefield._

**

Winter was keeping the ice and snow only on the tops of mountains and their shadows. While spring was slowly unrolling the green carpet of flowers, the garden in Yien's soul turned into a swamp. When plum blossoms embraced the treetops, the so loved season was now only a reminiscence in his heart. When he saw the pinkish flowers blooming, Yien picked a fistful of the fragile flowers and buried his face into the petals, inhaling the scent. The further he went into the mountains, the less blooming trees he met. Soon, the few plum embers he carried in his pocket turned into a dry root, so he threw it away, not even sparing a look back. 

Near the Ertix river, Yien found a shrine made of rocks and twigs. Remembering exactly _why_ people built such forbidden altars, Yien kneeled in front of the stones and fixed his eyes on the engraved symbols of _eternal._ A white ribbon fastened around one of the twigs and was washed by rain, and snow was floating in the cold wind. Moments turned into whiles, and then into an hour. Yien didn't move, hypnotizing the cold stone with his dark eyes. 

"This is not the right place for a monk to kneel. You might find _something—"_

_"—scary about this place…" Jia'er looked nervous as he turned around, standing in the middle of a clearing and trying to find the source of whispers together with his captain._

_"You are safe with me," Yien kneeled in front of the ancient altar of dark spirits, "cover my back until I finish the ritual."_

_"You mean my sword can cut these spirits?" the general looked at him in disbelief, "do I need Fu to protect me?"_

_"I'm the biggest Fu you can find around," Yien opened his bag, pulling out incense sticks and a small-framed leather book._

_"Then_ you _should cover my back!"_

_Yien chuckled at that, "do you trust me?"_

_"Of course!"_

_The steadiness of his general's voice once again brought much more spiritual strength into Yien's body. He was sure that with Jia'er by his side, he could hunt down any evil spirit. The black shrine he was trying to put down right now belonged to báguǐ. Jia'er was impressed by how fast his captain, though he renounced his monk life, could find evil roots. Their village was beleaguered by sand and hot wind for weeks._

_Once the tiny shrine was disabled, Jia'er sprung back to Yien with a triumphed smile on his face. He grabbed his lover's shoulder and kissed his temple._

_Yien laughed, "are you a baby or a general?"_

_"Can't I be both?" the strong arms circled his waist, pulling him closer against the general's chest._

_"Babies don't belong on the battlefield." Yien's mouth scolded Jia'er, but his arms did the opposite as he embraced his lover's shoulders._

_Jia'er didn't answer, but his smile spread wider as he leaned forward, and with no hesitation, he pressed his lips against Yien's. The warmth rolled around the place in waves, caressing their skin and playfully running through their hair. Yien closed his eyes at the soft touch of their lips; the scent and taste on his tongue brought chirping into his head and flaming into his heart._

_"I know you'll protect me," Jia'er whispered between their lips, "I trust you."_

_"I will."_

_"Out of love that has blossomed in—"_

"—your heart is dark," a low and hoarse voice cut through Yien's thoughts again, "you shouldn't be here. Who are you begging?" 

It seemed only like a second that he zoned out. Yien blinked away the haze and fixed his eyes back on the symbol. His palms were balled into fists, nails sharp, digging into his skin. People often annoyed him on his travels. Somehow, they could _see_ and _feel_ that he used to be a monk, a _shéng_ of the Temple that war had razed. 

This old man, who was leaning against his walking stick, was not an exception. Though he looked like he's seen many lonely autumns, Mark knew the truth hidden behind his wrinkles and blazing pale eyes. When he looked at the man, he immediately knew that his enemy could turn into _anyone._

"Did I ask you for an opinion?" 

"I've been on your—" 

"I'm sure you've been," Yien turned his head back to the old stone, "but I don't care."

"You kneel in front of the wrong spirit, _monk._ " 

"That's my choice." 

The man came closer, his hand trembling in the process as his cane got stuck between two rocks. He almost fell but, in the end, managed to walk further, as if an invisible force pulled him closer to Yien. His determination was appreciative in Yien's eyes, but he kept his eyes averted and still fixated on the signs that stood for _eternal._

"You are making a terrible decision!" the old man yelled before he fell to the ground, the rock hitting his knee. 

Yien sighed, tearing away his eyes from the stone. If only people let him be, nobody would've got harmed. He stood up to help the man, but when he crouched and touched his shoulder, the older yanked his hand away. 

"If you want to summon dead, you have to die first!" his pale, moonlight eyes pierced through Yien like a spear, "a death of thousands of souls is required." 

"There's no such sacrifice, old man," Yien looked away at the trees surrounding them.

"It's dark magic, and dark magic always comes with side effects," the older didn't give up, "you gain something, you have to pay even bigger." 

"I don't want to summon anyone," Yien tried to help him on his feet but was dismissed with an angry slap on his hand. 

"You won't bring such madness to this world, _shéng!_ " 

The word has kindled a fire inside of him. Wordlessly, Yien stood up, frowning at the man. Three times was the charm, was the proverb, but he couldn't care less anymore. If the old man was too proud to accept a fallen monk's hand, then he could bleed out all he wanted. Yien tugged his coat closer and crossed his arms over his chest. He stepped back, holding his gaze with the man. 

"No one is that powerful!" the grey-haired man lifted his bony finger against Yien, "don't even try to play with evil spirits!" 

Yien shook his head as he showed him his back and left the poor soul to his destiny. 

**

The spring festival brought back many memories to Yien. From the abstract as the sound of a flute, the smell of flowers, and the delicious food, to the physical of Jia'er dressing him up in festive clothes, hiding a purple ribbon into his sleeve with an adorable grin on his face. Yien smacked his shoulder playfully, calling him _impossible,_ which only caused Jia'er to try to chase him across the room. They ended up in the inner garden by the plum tree. Yien hid behind the bole of the tree, a smile shaping his mouth into a crescent. There was nowhere to run because of the wooden fence around the garden, so he waited, joyfully, like a little kid. Jia'er appeared from his left side, quick as the hawk and beautiful as a bird with a twig full of plum flowers in his hand. _'You are so beautiful,'_ his eyes dropped on Yien's lips. With a gentle smile, Jia'er tucked the twig behind Yien's collar. 

The flute suddenly went silent, and the tranquility of the darkness surrounded Yien like wings of a crow. The lanterns blinked into the night. The memory of Jia'er kissing him behind the plum tree now looked only like a dream. 

Yien looked at the staring girl with the flute. After a moment, she frowned and stretched out her hand with an open palm. "You listened to my song more than for a while, pay."

Yien raised an eyebrow at her stubborn expression, "I'll give you more if you tell me where I can find Lin Zai Fan." 

The girl pursed her lips, frowning even more, "I don't know such a person."

"I'm sure you do." Yien pulled out his leather pouch, hefting it in his palm.

**

The house of the doctor was situated by a river which's name Yien didn't know. The whole province was unknown to him as he walked down the stairs and around rocks and bamboo trees. It looked strange to see oaks combined with bamboo. The garden looked unfamiliar, as nothing Yien had ever seen. The Zen garden seemed to be extraordinarily off, but Yien didn't come all the way across the kingdom to judge someone else's trees and bushes. 

Lin Zai Fan looked way younger than his official age stated. But to trust the town's people was like buying a cat in the bag. After a lengthy introduction to the servants, Yien had to wait another thirty minutes until the doctor appeared in the room, apologizing for the long wait. 

"I craved a hot bath the whole day and couldn't force myself to move," the man laughed joyfully. 

Yien nodded as he was sitting cross-legged with a cup of tea between his palms. The servants brought him white jasmine tea. 

"They told me you have a stomachache?" 

"I lied." Honest and without zero emotions, Yien unfolded the truth as he put the empty cup back on the tray and folded his hands into his lap. 

"Why is that?" the doctor reached for the teapot to refill his guest's cup. 

"It's not my stomach; it's a heart." 

Zai Fan gave him a look, exploring his face as if making sure that Yien was not making fun of him. The seriousness and coldness of his eyes seemed to be convincing enough. With a sigh, the doctor put the teapot in its place and took his cup. After a few sips, he looked back at Yien.

"I can't heal a broken heart."

"I'm not stupid," Yien told him, "I'm searching for a human heart." 

It startled the doctor. He choked on his tea, almost spilling it on his clothes. When Yien reached for him, the man abruptly stretched out his hand to push Yien back. It took the shocked man another moment to calm down, but Yien could see the shivers crawling like a spider over his skin. 

"I'm sure that you can afford a human heart without my help," Zai Fan proclaimed, "you are a warrior," he looked at the dagger firmly planted on Yien's thigh. 

"I always tell my servants that I don't want any weapon entering this room." 

"It's not a weapon," Yien assured him, "now, back to the topic. I need a human heart of an innocent."

Zai Fan shook his head, the dark subject overpowering him like a thick black blanket, "I don't know who told you—"

"Don't play games with me!" Yien said firmly, "you know the spell, don't you?!" 

"I'm just a simple doctor—"

"Don't lie to me!" he was growing impatient, the anger boiling in his guts, "I know _who_ you are, alchemist!" 

"You have the wrong person." He answered calmly. 

Yien stood up abruptly, sending the wooden tray on the floor and spilling the tea. Without a word, he drew his dagger and skillfully turned the blade upside-down, handing it to the doctor. The doctor jerked away, falling on his back, afraid of the crazy man drawing at him. But then, when he saw the purple tying, he strangely went calmer. The tension was weaved by night and candles blinking in the corner of the room. It seemed that the final denouement impressed Zai Fan enough to stand up and lead Yien into the depths of his house. There, behind a secret door with many strange glass vessels, Zai Fan opened a large dark-wooden chest. He dug through many silk clothes until he found a red-colored jar. When he handed it to Yien, the tension grew so tall that it could form shadows. The moment Yien's palms touched the relic, he felt the last drop of his willpower sunk into the depths of his eyes.

"You can't summon a soul back, but you can give them a chance to be called back upon a spell once per hundred years." Zai Fan hugged his slender form and rubbed his arms. The chamber was cold and dark, but Yien didn't flinch. 

"What exactly does that mean?" he looked from the jar to the doctor. 

"It means that you can meet the person once per a hundred years."

Yien clenched his jaws, anger overpowering him. He fisted the man's collar and yanked him forward, "do I look like a fool to you?!" 

Zai Fan yelped at the sudden force, "You'll die one day like any other mortal!" he said quickly, "but you have to die by a violent death so your soul will be wandering around. Only an evil spirit can call dead back to our world." 

"Then give me the evil spirit!" Yien yelled, "which spirit should I call upon this world!"

"You cannot!" the doctor said firmly, "only the oldest monks have the power to call spirits, but not even them can control evil spirits. You would have to put your own heart in there or find the _holy,_ the one born once per hundred years. _Shéng._ " 

Yien let go of the doctor and looked back at the jar. When he angled it, he could see the liquid moving. It wasn't a naturally colored glass; it was a blood that put the red effect on it. 

"The heart of an innocent must be placed into the jar as a sacrifice." Zai Fan cleared his throat, "then you can either put a spell on the lost soul, or call the evil spirit, but as I said—"

"Thank you," Yien hid the jar into his bag, "if there's anything I can do for you, tell me."

Zai Fan shook his head, "the reason I'm giving this to you is the symbol on your dagger." 

Yien nodded.

**

_"Is it true that people who die by violent death turn into evil spirits?" Jia'er asked as he was rubbing Yien's back with a wet cloth._

_"There's a high chance they will," he nodded, "but if the soul was innocent, then there's a probability that it will settle down."_

_"What if their soul was filled with sadness?"_

_"Sadness is not a harmful feeling," Yien turned his head to look at his lover, "why are you asking all of this?"_

_Jia'er shrugged, pressing his lips together. No other word left his mouth as he concentrated on the scrubbing rather than giving Yien the wrong impression. He could see the worried expression and a dip between Jia'er's eyebrows._

_"Talk to me," he turned around, snatching the cloth away from the general's hands, "what's bothering you, my love?"_

_He hesitated for a few moments, his fingers pulling at each other, before he spoke to Yien, "if I die on the battlefield, what will happen to me?"_

_Yien felt his heart dropping; a swirl of emotions have formed in his stomach. He gently gripped Jia'er's hands and looked into his awaiting eyes, "Heroic death is nothing but a blessing. "_

_"Blessing?" Jia'er asked, surprised, "dying is not a blessing," He looked away, evidently disturbed by the words, "once you're dead, it doesn't matter that you are a hero or a simple field-worker."_

_"But you'll remain as a hero in people's hearts. Hundreds of years later, people will spread your story and sing songs about you," Yien smiled, gently stroking his lover's hand with his thumb._

_"I don't want that!" he yanked his hands away, "I want to stay with you till I'm ninety years old!"_

_Yien's eyebrow flung all the way under his fringe. It wasn't the first time he saw his general pouting like a boy, but it was still odd to compare it to the fearless man in anyone else's eyes. On the battlefield, and between the soldiers, Wang Jia'er was the greatest warrior, but between these four walls and bedsheets, he was a simple and naked man that once offered his heart on his palms to Yien like a gift._

_"I believe we will," Yien's face softened, "you and me and no one else," he laughed and immediately reached for his lover to tackle him down on the bed._

_"Only you and me, forever," Jia'er pulled him closer, wrapping his hands around his neck, "I love you more than the death could ever understand."_

_"You're ineffable."_

**

Xing Fu had a lover. Merchant's daughter, a beautiful and smart woman whose face was the center of many poems. She looked like a pure person with her heart in the right place. When Yien saw her at the market, surrounded by her guardians, he thought about possible trails to get her unspotted. Three solid-built men with swords were pacing around, looking unfazed by their surroundings, but Yien knew better since Lu Han, and the rest of Ja'er's guardians had a similar demeanor, but fighting them was never a good idea. 

Yien did the best to hide his short sword under his coat. He passed one of the guardians and turned behind one of the stands. While it was tempting to put a curse on her, Yien knew better what must have been done. He needed to trace her until she would get to Xing Fu. Hiding in the capital city sounded smart, but not for Yien and his ability to locate whoever and whatever. 

"My lady, it's time to go back," the main guardian wore a dark blue undershirt under his armor. That man would be a problem. King's guardians wore blue and thought Yien would surely beat them; he was taught better. Underestimate your opponent was a mistake of beginners. 

As the night fell on the city and oil lamps were put on together with candles, Yien climbed on the roof of one of the merchant's house. He saw the smoke rising to the cloudy skies, coloring it into gray. The city sparkled in gold and red, and Yien paid a moment to admire the colors. Jia'er would've loved the capital city. 

Yien lowered his head, gritting his teeth. Mercy was another word he scratched in his vocabulary. 

He felt a cold drop on his cheek, and when he looked back at the house in the background, he could see raindrops flashing through the lights. He stood up, wrapping his fingers on the handle of his sword. The cold spring wind was creeping under his clothes. He wore red and black, just like Jia'er when he died. 

"Soon, everything will be over," Yien whispered, "and I'll see your face again." He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the humid air mixed with flower scent into the air. The water was washing away the smell, but Yien was sure it was plums blossoming around the city. 

He looked down on the street and held his breath. 

_Love._ He could still feel love but not for the living. 

Never for the living. 

The house was already asleep with the guards playing Go in the garden. This concept was similar to the one he used to see in his general's place. Lu Han would smack Tao's hand once in a while when he tried to cheat, but his steps were so evident that Yien was sure that he did it to amuse Lu Han, who, after that, couldn't get rid of his grin. Yien fixated his eyes on the roof, thinking about the possible way how to climb through the trees and guards. He was no stranger to martial arts or unnoticeably accessing properties, as he trained it while sneaking into Jia'er's bedroom.

_"I'm glad you're on my side," the general laughed as he shifted on his bed to make room for Yien, "you're so bothersome." He laughed silently._

_"I heard you calling me in my dream."_

_They exchanged longing looks before Yien smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, "I'm here."_

_"I know."_

Yien climbed over the tree and fence to get above the garden. He knew fighting the guardians was necessary. In no way he needed them bursting into the room when he would be in the middle of killing Xing Fu. The side effects of any battling were unattachable. Yien could control only so little from his side, and Xing Fu was no ordinary warrior. 

The wind gained strength again, smearing the rain droplets in annoying manners all around Yien's face. He adjusted the face mask over his nose and watched as the guardians cursed the weather and started to pack their board game. Yien's heart slowed down, his breath steadied, and his body got ready to jump down from the tree. 

It was now or never. 

When he sliced their armor, when his sword swung through the raindrops and wind, Yien didn't think about his training anymore. The light he always craved has been bent against the sharp blade of his sword. No more, he was the dragon flying over the many hearts of the innocent and vulnerable. When he bared his teeth, he resembles a tiger, a merciless hunter, and when the last body dropped on the grass, his demeanor changed fast; his amber eyes darkened, and his features have softened in the dim lights of oil lamps. He was back in his lone wolf condition. 

The wind whistled in the windows, creating a complete soundproof coverage for Yien's actions. When he slid the door open, two other men were already waiting for him. 

_"I don't want you to stain your hands with blood," Jia'er frowned as he was wrapping the soft cotton bandage around his biceps, "you're my adviser, not a soldier."_

_"I did what needs to be done," Yien said firmly, "your life was at stake."_

_"But yours was too," the captain looked into Yien's eyes, "I'm not better than you, Yien."_

The sword cut through the paper and wooden walls, turning the whole house into a panic. Female's screams echoed in Yien's ear. Yien tried to forbear from the women who were running around and making his effort difficult. He almost cut the servant's face when she ran right into him. Shoving her away, Yien avoided the main guard's blade jumping in front of him out of the blue, causing Mark to withdraw from his position. He climbed over the broken frame of the wall and across the other to find a suitable place to fight the man. 

"Evacuate Xing Fu!" yelled the guardian. 

Yien watched the man from the other side of the hallway like a hunter and prey in the same person. He fixed his gloves over his bruised palms, wordlessly challenging the enemy. 

"Why did you come here?!" the man barked at him. 

Yien licked his thumb and put out the candle near to him. In the darkness, the guardian growled at him. At that point, there was no more despair or hope in Yien's movements. All the words that haunted him, memories and vivid images of his lover were clouded by the curtains of revenge and blood dripping into his eyes. There was no point in holding back and show his mercy to anyone. He didn't care about the lives these people led and didn't give a damn if they had children, mothers, and siblings. Xing Fu massacred his family, the love of his life, and ran away into the capital city to live a mighty life.

"Please no!" a high-pitched scream interrupted them as Yien was beating the blade of his opponent with mighty blows of his sword. 

"Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you, but please don't hurt him!"

"My lady!" the guardian's eyes widened in shock as he looked at her slim figure dressed in a red robe. This short moment was enough for Yien to stab his sword right through his chest and kick the man off his blade. 

She stared at him in complete horror, her teary eyes looking like the eyes of a dear. Yien stepped over the lifeless body, not giving the lady enough time. He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her forward against his body. She pressed her palms against his blood-stained armor and cried for mercy. 

"What do you want?" her knees were breaking, and she was continually falling on the floor as Yien led her across the rooms studded with bodies and bloody puddles. 

"Your heart." 

In a heartbeat, everything made sense. The strings of destiny met in one place and in one heart that beats for the wrong person. She never met Jia'er or Yien; she never had to face a rough man or defend herself from the enemy. The pure white sheets were all she ever knew about the men's world. And if Xing Fu were a good enough man, he would finally show his face and save his lover. 

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered when Yien shoved her on the bed. 

"Where Xing Fu? Did he run away?" 

She hiccupped, trying to find her breath again, "whatever he's done to you, please, be merciful." 

Yien frowned at her, the anger boiling in his veins, waiting for the right moment to bubble up like a magma turning into lava, "what's your full name?" 

"Liú Youfu, I'm just a daughter of a merchant. I have nothing." She begged. 

"Why are you with Xing Fu?" 

She looked petrified, her eyes red and puffed as she tried to put some sense into what was happening to her. Thinking about ripping her heart out, Yien, for a second thought about what a shame it would be to stain the beautiful woman and her innocence. She probably never hurt a soul, nor an animal. Why was Xing Fu with such a lovely being? The demon, pure evil walking down the capital city streets, didn't deserve less than torture and death. 

"I love him," she confessed with her whole heart. 

It angered Yien even more. He showed his back to her for a second, not thinking about what could happen during one of his weak moments. Youfu probably had no idea about her lover's past, how he massacred women and children in his village and killed his own cousin just for a piece of land. 

"Why?!" he turned around, screaming in anguish, "why do you love someone as evil as him?"

She was evidently offended by his words. Not for a moment, she hesitated or glared at the accusation, "and you?! You killed everyone in this mansion!" she screamed, her high voice piercing through Yien's eardrums like a battle cry. 

_"I don't want you to fight…" Jia'er cupped his face, "please, you are too precious to me."_

_"You have chosen me for this."_

_"No, I would never," he said, "I would never choose you to torment your soul."_

_Adviser,_ that was all Yien should've been before someone tried to touch his captain. Maybe it was then when Yien's soul got stained by the shadows of other cries and crimes. Every monk was trained to live in modesty and have no desires. Still, Yien was born as _shéng,_ a holy person with his heart as pure he shouldn't have even spared a second to think about intimacy and love different than the love for another human being or animal. 

He was _weak, broken,_ and _destroyed_ beyond repair. 

"By oneself, indeed, is evil done; by oneself is one defiled. By oneself is evil left undone; by oneself, indeed, is one purified. Purity and impurity depend on oneself. No one purifies another. "

When he was done quoting the mantra, something strange happened with Youfu. Immediately, she stood up from the bed, holding herself tightly with her crossed arms. Bravely holding her breath as her body trembled with fear, she took another step closer to Yien. But her _eyes,_ her very eyes, were anything but scared. Her round, black eyes cried in empathy, reflecting the candles in the room like a sea reflects the moonlight. 

"You are a monk," she said breathlessly. 

Yien averted his eyes from her. 

"Oh, I see," Youfu nodded, "I see the love you lost. You broke the laws of your brothers to be with someone." 

"Shut up!" he snapped.

"You broke the holy laws and became a spiteful human," she pressed, her tongue getting colder with each truth that she spoke out, "who was this person? What was so special about her that you threw away your whole life for her?" 

"It was not a woman, my dear!" third voice has joined their debate. Xing Fu stood behind the paper wall; his shadow painted the birds and twigs on the wallpaper. This whole house was like a book; if Yien set one place on fire, it would burn down in a moment. 

No other words were spoken, and Yien couldn't care less about the duo trying to judge him. He had no heart anymore to feel sorrow or love. Revenge devoured his whole being while love remained only like a reminiscence of someone's else's story. He drew his sword, cutting the thin wall and missing the man's shoulder only a few centimeters. 

"No! Stop this madness!" Youfu yelled, trying to step between the two men that were already crossing their swords. 

Yien didn't listen anymore, not minding if the woman would get hurt or fall, or even die. Her heart would be as good dead. He felt the evil clawing at his very soul with each move, the demon that possessed him, the suffering that should forever remain unknown to his heart was rooting into his bones. 

Youfu tried to stop them for the last time, but Yien knocked her accidentally on the floor, splitting her bottom lip. Xing Fu was a master of the sword; Yien saw him training with Jia'er before getting his land from the king. Then their ways have separated by greediness and envy. And this man, who proclaimed his love to a fierce and pure woman, managed to stab his family into dead, let Jia'er bleed out in Yien's arms like a wounded animal. 

The flashes of his lover lying breathlessly on the floor with his eyes pale and staring at the wooden ceiling crept back into Yien's mind, hazing his vision with a whole new wave of hatred. Xing Fu, the son of a bitch, not a better species than a rock sitting on the bottom of a river, was now facing him with a scornful grin on his face. Yien, however, soon get rid of that bashful smile when he cut through Xing Fu's blouse and left a shallow bleeding wound on his chest. 

Xing Fu pressed his palm against the wound, his brows furrowing, and mouth curving into a hateful line as he looked at Yien, who stood by the wall, in a position with his sharp sword aiming straight at Xing Fu's heart.

"You really want to die, Duan Yien?" his chuckle was bloody as he smeared the red all over his mouth, like war paint, "or you think you're that good?"

"If I die killing you, I don't mind it." 

"Do you know why the spell was so strong, Yien? Because I sacrificed my father's life to the fox. She should have allured you, she should've turned into a woman and seduce you, but it seems like you don't like that…" he scowled at Yien, "always lying at the feet of my cousin, I should've known better. But, it worked, partly, so I don't mind." 

The room seemed to grow colder; no more emotions were in the game. Yien felt oddly light and carefree. He finally realized that he would have to die in misery, turning his spirit into a ball of blackness and keeping forever rolling into the very pit of Earth. Once per a hundred years opportunity, was good enough for him to scatter his humanity and future. 

"You're going to die, Xing Fu." 

"Well… everyone has to go, am I right?"

"Right," Yien replied, emotionless.

"But," Xing Fu tried to rebuy time, still pressing his hand against the bleeding wound, "I heard that you are king's general now! Why do you want to throw away such blissful things!" 

"I don't care." He immediately replied, spitting the chance to go back into his previous life like a piece of rotten meat. 

"You should. You believe in the king, but the king will bring changes that will destroy our land. Liberty? What's the meaning, Yien?"

"It means more people like Wang Jia'er and less people like you." 

Xing Fu went silent, staring at the floor where his blood was dripping before stepping back to create more distance between them. Whatever was on this man's mind, Yien didn't like how he hesitated to attack Xing Fu and finally kill him. What was the power that kept his feet rooted into the wooden floor as if he were becoming a plant? Yien gripped his sword tightly, feeling the skin burning under the rough tying. 

"Have you tried the spell, Yien?" Xing Fu looked at him, his face blank, "bring him back, you did try, didn't you? But you're too weak. Obsessed with your revenge." 

"What makes you think I'm trying to bring _him_ back?" Yien felt his grip easing on the handle of his sword. 

"Because I know _you,_ " he answered mysteriously, "you are the _shéng,_ holy and pure, the only one who can control the evil," his face suddenly changed into a vicious grin, "but you can't control your evilness. What an unfortunate turn of events." 

Yien's eyes clouded as his face softened, "you shouldn't have tried to allure me away," he said coldly, "things should've been different, a lot better with you dead and Jia'er alive. "

"Turning your whole life into hell for one fool..." 

"You—" 

_"—should keep your hair longer," the general ran his fingers through Yien's black hair, "you don't live in the Temple anymore."_

_"But I'm still a monk, and even this length is considered unacceptable."_

_"But do you want to return to Temple?"_

_Yien looked into his eyes, curious, "what are you saying?"_

_"Nothing," he shrugged, "do you like the purple color, Yien?"_

_Yien sighed, trying not to think about leaving his monk life behind like it had never happened in the first place. What would his life look like? Would Jia'er find another position for him? Not an adviser but a full-length soldier? He didn't want to leave his general's side._

_"I don't desire material things or titles, Jia'er," he grabbed his hands, gently squeezing them, "I do whatever is in my power to be useful to_ you. _That's all I want in my life."_

_When the brown eyes sparkled, when they opened the depth of Jia'er's soul, Yien knew there was no turn back. He chose his fate, to live, and die next to his general._

_"You're making me the happiest," he leaned closer to Yien, "and I will never ask you to do anything that would harm your innocent heart. I love you, pure and wholesome."_

Tears spill out of Yien's eyes as he pushed his sword deeper into Xing Fu's heart, and only when the tip of his blade hit the bone, he let go and fall on the floor. His head was pulsing with each picture of Jia'er that was shown into his consciousness. His personal hell has been unleashed, burning his eyes and lungs as he tried to stand up. Voices whispered to him, calling him, pulling him into the darkness to join the barbaric dance of victory. 

Even if he revenged on the whole world, nothing would bring Jia'er back. 

He quickly turned his head to search for Youfu. She was sitting on the floor, her face pale like a moonlight. Yien wanted to scream at her: _go, go, and embrace what has left your lover! Feel what I felt!_ But he couldn't untie his tongue. Maybe she didn't love Xing Fu as she proclaimed, perhaps nobody's love was as strong as Yien's. 

"He was not better than me," Yien finally said as he stood up on his wobbling legs, feeling each of his wounds stinging and hurting like a bitch. 

When Yien dropped in front of Youfu, she looked up at him through her glassy eyes, "your name means _sacred,_ " he said, "you managed to find goodness in a man who was worthless to anyone." 

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she listened to the words of _shéng,_ the one who should've always stand on her side. 

"There's nothing left for me in this world," He slid his hand under his short coat, untying a leather bag from behind his belt, "I have only this." 

The jar fell on the floor, rolling right at her knees, "If you put my heart in there, and bring it to Ushang to the Village of Plum flower, you'll find a grave under an old oak tree. Burry the jar in the soil of the grave together with this Fu. Do it while my blood is still warm." He pulled out a yellow spell with five symbols. 

Youfu looked at him in disbelief, she couldn't process anything of what the monk was saying, but Yien only smiled at her, "I'm grateful," he bowed his head respectfully, "for meeting you, that you could understand the fool which I am." 

"What are you saying?" she sobbed, clenching her fist tightly on her thighs, "you killed Xing Fu and he…"

"He was who _he was,_ " Yien said, his eyes fixed on the jar, "but we both fought for different reasons." 

She considered that after hearing everything Xing Fu had done, she probably wanted to believe that the man had changed for the better and was aiming for a penance path. Yien lifted the jar and patiently waited for her to open her palms. When she did that, he placed the jar into her hands and closed his eyes in relief.

"I love him, Youfu. I love him more than my own life. The love I still can feel is the only reason why I kept walking. He wanted to marry me, Youfu … _me._ But right now, I'm nothing but a ghost of me." He was feeling asleep, slowly descending into the world of endless circles, where no one is only happy or sad. 

The Uroboros has been waiting for him to end the circle. 

He was next. 

"Why couldn't you have moved on?" she asked, gripping the jar between her hands, "how am I supposed to live after this?" 

Yien snapped his eyes open, the last resistance before the death would come for him, "because you are _you._ " His eyes were fading away when she whimpered, but the lifeless bodies in the room were the only witness of her turmoil.

"Wang Jia'er," he whispered before his head sunk against Youfu's shoulder. 

She cried, holding the spells near her womb, with the body of a man she's never met before, with a man who turned her life into hell just like Xing Fu turned Yien's life into a pulsing tumor. 

"I don't want to! I can't!" She let go of the jar and gripped Yien's shoulder, "please, I can't do that!" 

Why should she in the first place? 

_"I want to kiss you," Jia'er leaned through the twigs and flowers of the plum tree, "would you let me kiss you?"_

_Yien bit his bottom lip, "It's my choice, isn't it?"_

_Jia'er nodded with a smile, "life is about choices that make us happy."_

_"You make me happy," he admitted in a heartbeat._

_Their lips met through the haze of summer heat, and_ it was the last thing Yien felt before Youfu stabbed the dagger through his chest with a torturing wail. 

**

The autumn leaves felt crispy under Lu Han's feet as he was slowly pacing through the woods. He held a bag in his hands full of candles and bowls of rice. Since his general died a year ago, the woods in the village started to feel ominous, evil and possessed. Every third day, Lu Han brought a sacrifice for the spirits, but it didn't seem to ease the trees' tense atmosphere. When he was close to the oak tree, to the grave of his ex-general, he spotted a stranger woman kneeling on the dirt, her white dress stained with soil and water. 

Lu Han frowned, prepared to attack her, but something held him back, telling him he should watch before he would judge. She looked like she was digging into the grave with her bare hands. The ground was already aligned and overgrown with yellow grass, but she kept digging. 

"What are you doing here?!" he didn't like that she was violating the rest of the dead and the grave of his general, "do you hear me?" he dropped his bag on the ground and angrily strode to her. 

When she didn't react, he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her aside to see what she was doing. There was a jar sitting between the yellow and red leaves with attached Fu. _'Endless circle of two people.'_ He read the secret words but couldn't understand. 

"That's not how Fu works, woman!" 

"Let me be!" Youfu freed her arm from the intruder, "I do what I was asked!" 

"What do you mean?!" 

She sighed, looking at her stained hands before she nodded to the jar, "I was asked to put these two things into this grave. It was _his_ last wish." 

Lu Han's eyes widened in shock. It couldn't be… could it be? The woman continued to dig into the grave with his bare hands as if she were specially asked to do that and not use any instrument. He could see blood on her fingers as she cut herself on the sharp rocks. 

"Whose last wish it was?!" Lu Han insisted, "do you hear me?!" 

"Why do you ask?! And who you are?!" she stood up, frowning at him. 

"I'm Lu Han, and this is the grave of my general," he returned the glare, "now tell me what kind of spells you are trying to do here?!" 

Youfu held his gaze longer than it was appropriate. Her stubborn features only fan the flames in Lu Han into a fire. He grabbed her shoulder again and pulled her closer, "tell me, or I'll drag you to the village and let you explain yourself to the council!" 

It appeared she finally gave in when she nodded and asked him to let her go. Lu Han did as he was told and patiently waited for the explanation. Youfu kneeled back between the leaves and grass and handed him the jar. 

"What is this?" Lu Han observed the vessel from every angle, even set it against the sun to see through, but he didn't even know where to begin. And then, she dropped the fact like hot bread.

"Duan Yien's heart." 

Lu Han almost let the precious jar fall from his hands as the shock quaked him terribly. He sank to his knees, searching for her eyes. "What are you saying, woman?!" 

"My name is Youfu!" she frowned, "and I'm telling the truth! This is the heart of general Duan Yien." 

The last time Lu Han saw Yien, he was on the horse, leaving the village and his mother without regrets. Lu Han spent many days thinking about his friend, his former captain, and general. Often, he sat next to the Jia'er's grave and talked about Yien and how his sorrow filled his whole heart. _Oh,_ how he wished he could say something positive about the stubborn man, but nobody knew him better than Jia'er. After one of the most destructive storms, the eerie happenings began to form in the woods in the middle of the summer. No one got hurt, but the fear of the unknown and darkness was enough for people to avoid it and spread rumors that it was the general's restless spirit wandering around. 

Lu Han didn't fight the stories people told each other when the lights were on, and they had nothing better to do than talk. It was a common thing that a person who was murdered could turn into an evil spirit. 

But Lu Han would never think that even a living person could transform into a spirit so spiteful and revengeful that it brought only suffering into everyone's existence. As he was listening to Youfu's word, his heart kept aching. 

"I brought this," she pulled out a dagger and lay it on the grave, "now, please, let me finish what I promised to Yien."

"Where's his body?" Lu Han asked, "it needs to be brought back to his home."

Youfu shook her head, "I ordered to bury him behind the Temple in my hometown. Behind the capital city." 

"Was he buried as a monk with the right ceremony?"

"Of course." 

Lu Han visibly relaxed. However, he couldn't bring himself to help Youfu with her task. After all, it was Yien's last wish that only _she_ could finish the spell. Shivers ran down his spine as he repeated the whole story in his head over and over again. His indescribable feelings only turned the atmosphere worse. After all, when Lu Han watched as Youfu, she survived was fulfilling the last wish of a man who killed her lover… he understood why Yien would ask her to _cut out_ his heart and bring it to Jia'er's grave.

"We buried him in the noble wedding clothes," she suddenly said as she placed the jar with the Fu into the hole. "I studied the spell he was trying to set upon himself and his lover and found out that…"

"What?" 

"Only an innocent heart or an evil spirit can perform the ritual," she answered, "it's a curse."

"Curse?" Lu Han asked, dumbfounded.

"He cursed Wang Jia'er to wake up once per a hundred years so they could meet in the underworld for a day." 

A stunned silence filled the space between them. Lu Han could almost feel the presence of his general, his cold hand on his neck, and his cries. He was everywhere around them, angry, sad, and confused, while Yien was still rolling down the stairs of hell for the next hundred years until he would see his lover. 

"But—" Youfu buried the jar, resting her cold hands on the place, "without knowing it, he cursed even himself."

"What do you mean?"

"He was buried without his heart; he can't rest until he can find it. Until then, he's going to live between us as a restless spirit. There's only a little chance that they can meet again."

Lu Han looked at the tombstone of his general, "finish the ritual, Youfu." He stood up and stepped back to give her enough space. 

"I believe we will all meet again." 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment & ♥  
> I've written almost 14 000 words and almost threw my laptop away while editing it. I've done it all alone. You have no idea how complicated this story was to write. So if you finished, please leave a response.


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